My Husband, My Best Friend, and Their Dirty Little Secret

Zaney went abroad with everything provided for her—visa, tuition and living expenses—all arranged by Frans. She said she wanted to pursue her studies and he gave her everything she needed to do it.

As for me—the chosen bride in a union between two prominent families—he didn’t even have the right to refuse.

The party turned out to be more unbearable than I expected. I don’t know who ordered the durian pizza, but the smell made my stomach churn. I covered my mouth, muttered an excuse and hurried away from the table.

The restroom was inside a private room, separated only by a wall with mediocre soundproofing. So when Zaney casually announced that she had returned to Canada “for love,” I heard every word—clear as day.

A burst of laughter followed, crashing in my ears like a wave.

“Who’s worth chasing that much, Miss Qameela? Come on, tell us!”

“Oh, I’d rather not. Might make someone angry.”

“Angry? Who’d dare be angry at you? Say the word and I’ll help you chase him down.”

That was Frans’s voice.

“You said it,” she replied.

“Mm-hmm.”

“That person... is not far away in the sky, but right in front of me.”

Silence fell over the room. The stillness pressed down like a weight on my chest. Then came soft laughter again—Zaney’s—and Frans’s helpless voice

“Zaney, that’s enough.”

I pushed the door open. She had already moved into the seat I had vacated earlier. Leaning gently against Frans, her eyes still shimmered with affection she hadn’t bothered to hide.

Frans was the first to rise. He walked toward me, his expression full of concern. “Feeling better?”

So many times, it only took a few words from him to make me feel like spring had returned. No matter what had happened, as long as he spoke, I would begin to convince myself that it was all okay. Because his reputation always seemed more important than my feelings. And he assumed I would always know my place. I looked up at him—and slapped him across the face. His always-composed, indifferent eyes were stunned, just for a second.

From behind, Zaney screamed. “Shery Raymond! Are you crazy?!”

I kept my gaze on the man I had loved for years. “Frans,” I said coldly, “I want a divorce.”

Frans had always treated me well. As a husband, he was nearly flawless.

The Charles Family had strict rules. He knew exactly how a man should behave toward his wife. So even when I slapped him and asked for a divorce in front of everyone, all he did was frown.

“Sheryl, let’s talk about this at home.”

No one else dared to make a sound—except Zaney, whose voice rang out, still sharp.

“Don’t be impulsive. Talk it out. Or I’ll go home with you two piece by piece and explain everything. I just—”

I turned and gave her the first direct look of the night.

“Piece by piece? And who exactly do you think you are?”

Frans's frown deepened. “Sheryl, Zaney was just trying to be kind. You don’t have to be so sensitive.”

He had taken a slap and said nothing. But the moment I so much as raised my voice at Zaney, he stepped in to defend her.

My eyes blurred with tears I hadn’t meant to shed. But Zaney’s fell first.

“Little Orange,” she said, her voice trembling, “I was joking. If it upset you, I apologize.”

She bent forward, tears dripping onto the carpet.

“You really don’t have to take it to heart. You probably didn’t know, but Frans and I always joke like that. A lot of our friends know.”

“I’ve just been away too long… I forgot that you two are married now. It’s all my fault...”

Some of the classmates who’d been silently watching the drama unfold began to chime in.

“Come on, Sheryl, don’t be mad. She really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Frans married you—Zaney knows her boundaries.”